


Monsters Made Them Do It

by vampireisthenewblack



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 100 word chapters, Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Blowjobs, Drabble, Drabble Sequence, Dubious Consent, First Time, Frottage, M/M, Masturbation, Mild Angst, Monsters Make Them Do It, Outdoor Sex, Sex Compulsion, Sex Pollen, and fluff, and lots and lots of sex, bareback, come-as-lube, the merest hint of somnophilia, the neverending blowjob, the neverending rimjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-17
Updated: 2013-06-04
Packaged: 2017-12-08 18:21:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 50
Words: 5,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/764522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vampireisthenewblack/pseuds/vampireisthenewblack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fleeing a fight with a monster, Stiles and Derek realize that its blood has an unusual effect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> An exercise in controlled procrastination. 100 words per day.
> 
> [protip: drabble series' are easier to read if you hit the 'Entire Work' button at the top of the page]

Stiles' hand itches, he's hard, and he's in Derek's car. "Stop."

"We didn't kill it," Derek says. "It might be after us."

"Gonna puke," Stiles lies, pressing his hand into his crotch to relieve the pressure. "Don't watch."

"Open the window." Derek twitches his head to the right, sniffs. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing." Stiles rubs harder.

"You're jerking off? In my car?"

"Can't help it. The blood did something."

Derek slams on the brakes, leans across, pops Stiles' door. "Out, I'll smell it for weeks." His eyes meet Stiles', his arm brushes Stiles' thigh.

Stiles whines as he comes.


	2. 2

"I couldn't help it," Stiles insists.

Derek pushes him out of the car.

Standing on the roadside, come cooling in his jeans, Stiles realizes it's not over. "I'm just..." He turns from Derek's scowl, walks stiffly into the trees, unzips his fly. "No, I'm fine," he says. "Just infected." His hand falters. "What if it kills me?"

There's a growl from the road, the sound of something large hitting the hood, flesh tearing.

Derek might die, but Stiles needs to come. He clings to a tree, hand stripping his cock, watching the dim glow of the headlights through the trees.


	3. 3

Derek appears, covered in blood. "There's an aphrodisiac in it, something..." He shakes his head, runs his fingers through his hair. "We should go."

Stiles turns away. "Supernatural viagra. Awesome. Gimme a sec." His breath hitches as he reaches for his dick again. He's got to come, though he's getting little relief before it starts over.

Warmth presses against him from behind. Derek wraps an arm around Stiles' chest, cock hard against his ass. "Sorry," Derek sighs, moving his hips. "I have to..."

"Can't jerk off like a normal person?" Still, it helps. Stiles pushes back, hand down his jeans.


	4. 4

"Is this gonna wear off?" Stiles wipes come off his hand onto the bark of a tree.

Derek's arms tighten around Stiles. He grinds his dick against Stiles' ass, letting out soft huffs of breath. "Go. Take the car."

Stiles is getting hard again. He covers Derek's hands with his own, holds on, trying to resist touching his oversensitive dick so soon. "I'm not leaving you here."

Derek grunts and stiffens. Wet warmth soaks into the back of Stiles' shirt.

"God. You came on me. That's so hot."

"Go," Derek growls, shoving Stiles away. "Or I'm going to fuck you."


	5. 5

Stiles gets halfway to the road. He has to stop, has to make himself come—Oh, god, not again—before he can go any further.

" _Stiles_..." Derek's voice is an anguished growl.

Stiles should be afraid, instead he wills Derek to give in. "It's okay. I want it." He falls to his hands and knees in the dirt.

Derek appears behind him. One hand is warm on Stiles' hip, the other drags through the mess on his lower back. "I'll try to prepare you," Derek says, dragging down Stiles' jeans, pushing a come-slick finger into the crack of Stiles' ass.


	6. 6

Stiles' fingers claw into the ground, dirt grinding underneath his nails. It distracts him from the burning stretch of Derek's fingers moving deep inside him. 

"God, I'm sorry," Derek moans, twisting his fingers out, thrusting back in. "There's no time, I have to—" 

"It helps," Stiles whispers. "Oh god, I want to come..." He wraps dirty fingers around his cock, squeezes as he strokes. 

"Wait, Stiles. You can wait, you're strong. I'm not." Derek pulls his hand back, there's blunt pressure at Stiles' hole. "I'm sorry."

Stiles cries out as Derek pushes in. He feels like he's being split apart.


	7. 7

"Stiles," Derek moans, his voice wrecked. "I've gotta move." 

Derek's cock is a deep, full-body ache inside him, but the pain has faded. "Yeah," Stiles whispers. He reaches for his dick again. "But I've really got to come now, I don't think you understand—" 

Derek rocks his hips, fingers pressing bruises into Stiles' waist. "Oh, I understand," he growls through clenched teeth.

Shallow thrusts aren't what Stiles expected, but it staves off his need a little. "That's good," he sighs, stroking his cock slowly. "It's working." 

Derek grunts his agreement, pulls out further, thrusts back in deep. "Come now, Stiles."


	8. 8

Stiles needs to come, but it's harder now, like climbing Everest. "Four in a row," he grunts, elbow jerking, free hand braced on the ground. He skids forward with every one of Derek's thrusts. "Never done four. Argh, fuck. Spread out over a day, sure."

"Just come," Derek growls. "When I'm done, try for the car again. I'll go the other way."

Stiles shakes his head. "Just keep fucking me." This feels good, whatever the blood does, this is what it needs. He could happily stay on hands and knees in the dirt, Derek's cock filling him over and over.


	9. 9

Stiles' dick gives a feeble spurt, his body clenching hard.

"God," Derek moans, pushing deeper in tiny jerks. "I can feel it, Stiles. Fuck." He grunts, cock pulsing as he comes.

Derek pulls out and Stiles moans at the sudden emptiness. "Keep fucking me, please," he begs, but Derek's gone, a distant rustle of movement through the trees.

Stiles limps toward the road. 

The monster's on the hood, all horns and mucus and blood. It slides off when Stiles pokes it with a stick.

In the car, he rubs his dick through his jeans. The keys aren't in the ignition.


	10. 10

"Not good," Stiles moans as he tugs on his dick. "Very, very bad. Stupid, stupid Derek Hale. Had to run off like a big scaredywolf, hope you're having fun jerking off in the woods alone because I'm not, fucker, I'm dying here, I can't come and when you fuck me it helps, okay, oh my god, Derek, _please_."

There's a distant howl. Seconds later, another, closer, then something big crashes through the trees. 

Stiles leans against the car, peers into the darkness. He jerks back when he sees two red glowing eyes coming fast.

Derek hits the treeline and leaps.


	11. 11

The breath rushes out of Stiles when Derek hits him, pinning him to the car. He tries to speak, nothing comes out, and he's harder than ever before, aching and throbbing against Derek's bare stomach.

Derek's all teeth and sideburns, Stiles doesn't care, doesn't complain as he's lifted roughly. He spreads his legs wide, sinks down onto Derek's cock with only a sigh of relief.

Claws prickle Stiles' thighs, fangs scrape his shoulder. He slips his hand between them, wraps it loosely around his dick. "Yeah," he rasps, going limp, letting Derek do the work. "Keep fucking me. Never stop."


	12. 12

Derek's face shifts back to human when he comes, and when he pulls out he holds Stiles close, cradling his head with one hand. 

Stiles tries to protest, so empty he can't bear it, but Derek makes soothing sounds and lowers him to the ground. "I'm not going," he says, covering Stiles with his body, sliding back inside.

Stiles whimpers in relief. He closes his eyes, exhausted, wrung out and wrecked, but Derek keeps him full, even when he comes, he keeps moving until he's hard again.

"Never stop," Stiles murmurs, on the edge of sleep.

"I promise," Derek whispers.


	13. 13

Stiles half-wakes to a car passing on the road, a hard-on, and Derek wrapped around him from behind. He presses back against Derek's cock, sticky along the crack of his ass, and strokes himself.

"Stiles," Derek says, voice sleep-thick and husky, rocking his hips.

"Fuck me," Stiles breathes. 

Derek hums, splays his hand over Stiles' chest, pushes inside. They move together slowly.

Stiles comes crying out, Derek jerking inside him all over again before he softens and slips out.

"I'm not getting hard again," Stiles says. "It's worn off." 

Derek stiffens. "So just now—"

"Not monster induced, no. Just us."


	14. 14

Derek dumps the tarp-wrapped monster onto Deaton's exam table. "Don't get the blood on you."

Stiles is painfully aware of his clothes, torn and covered in blood and other fluids.

"What happened to you boys?" Deaton asks.

"We slept together," Derek says.

Stiles snorts. "Yeah, but before that, we had sex. A whole lot of really dirty, filthy, depraved, compulsive sex. _Then_ we slept together, then we—"

"Stiles," Derek growls, then looks at Deaton. "We were both infected."

"I understand," Deaton says, resting his hand on Derek's shoulder. "Were you boys involved, before this happened?"

"No," Derek says. "Definitely not."


	15. 15

Stiles waits out front, listens to the soft hum of Deaton's voice, the noncommittal growl of Derek's. Stiles can't hear words, but he knows they're talking about him.

He calls his dad at the station. It's easier to lie about why he stayed out, now that his dad knows about werewolves. He worries more though. "I'm fine," Stiles says. "Going home to sleep."

Derek appears, and Stiles ends the call. "Give me a lift?" Stiles tries to stand normally, tries not to wince as he shifts his weight.

"Of course." Derek's hand is warm at Stiles' back, but never touches.


	16. 16

Stiles expects to be left at his door, but Derek kills the engine, follows him into the house, silent and with an expression on his face that is different from the usual scowl, more pinched, more painful.

"I'm fine," Stiles says when Derek follows him up the stairs. "I don't need a babysitter."

Derek stops, closes his eyes, sighs. "You're scratched and bruised. I did that. I need to make sure you're going to be okay."

Stiles keeps going, every step painful. The little sleep he had wasn't enough and his legs are barely holding him. "Okay," he says. "Thanks."


	17. 17

The shower sends plumes of steam into the air. Stiles peels his shirt away from the scabs on his back, shoulders, hips, tosses it at the hamper, then unbuttons his jeans.

"D'you want me to wait outside?"

Stiles looks up and shrugs. "You've seen it."

The hot water soothes Stiles' sore muscles, but drains him of energy. He's relieved when Derek climbs in, holds him up with strong arms as he slides a soapy washcloth over broken, bruised skin.

There are deep scratches on his back Stiles doesn't remember getting. They sting when Derek cleans them. "I'm sorry," he whispers.


	18. 18

The blind is closed to block out the sun, Stiles is wrapped in blankets, near sleep. "You can leave now," he murmurs. "I'm just gonna—"

"I wanna stay," Derek says.

Stiles forces his eyes open. Derek sits with elbows on his knees, fingers locked together under his chin. His hair is still wet from the shower, his eyelids look as heavy as Stiles' feel.

"Get in here, then," Stiles says. "Might as well sleep."

Derek blinks. "You should want me as far away from you as possible."

Stiles snorts. "You won't go away."

"Do you want me to go?"

"No."


	19. 19

"This isn't something you did to me," Stiles whispers, curling his hand, grazing his knuckles over Derek's chest. "It happened to both of us."

Derek exhales a shaky breath over the top of Stiles' head. He moves, pressing the flat of his hand to the small of Stiles' back.

The aches and stings drain away, Stiles relaxes muscles he hadn't realised were tense. "Oh, god," he whispers, unclenching his fist, spreading his fingers out over Derek's skin. "I'm glad it was you."

"No," Derek says.

"Yeah." Stiles' words are slurred, he's almost asleep. "I wanted you to fuck me before."


	20. 20

"No," Derek says. "That's not true." 

"It is." Stiles presses his lips to Derek's shoulder.

"That makes it worse," Derek says, voice broken and twisted. "I should have been stronger, I should have stayed away." 

"You're an idiot." Sleep tries to drag Stiles under. "I needed you, and you didn't go, and you're still here now, and please, please don't be gone when I wake up."

Stiles lets sleep take him, but not before he feels Derek's grip on him tighten, feels hot breath against his cheek where Derek pushes his face into the place Stiles' head meets the pillow.


	21. 21

Stiles wakes up warm and half-hard, Derek still wrapped around him. He shifts, rubbing his sensitive cock against Derek's thigh.

Derek moans, his grip on Stiles tightens briefly, then his body stiffens as he becomes aware. "Stiles," he whispers, pulling away.

Stiles opens his eyes. "Please just fucking kiss me."

Derek's face screws up, like he's in pain. "Last night wasn't real."

Stiles sighs and rolls onto his back. "You fucked me _this morning_. Not because we were still infected, not because you were doing me a favor. You did it because you wanted to." 

"That doesn't make it okay."


	22. 22

"Derek, fuck." Stiles pulls himself up to a sitting position. "It wasn't your fault, you couldn't have guessed what that blood was going to do. Stop torturing yourself. I want you to kiss me. If you want that, too, do it. If you don't, then maybe you should leave, because all this concern is making me think you care." He pulls his knees up, drops his head down.

Derek rests his hand on the back of Stiles' neck. "I've gotta deal with what I did, the way it happened. If we'd had any choice, it wouldn't have been like that."


	23. 23

"I've got nothing to compare with," Stiles mumbles. "Was it really that bad?"

Derek makes a sound of disbelief. "It was awful. Rough, hurried, out in the woods, down in the dirt..." 

Stiles lifts his head. "It felt good," he whispers. "To me, anyway." 

Derek's fingers are warm on the back of his neck. "It should have been so much better."

"So, show me."

Derek's lips twitch, but he shakes his head. "Stiles..."

"Come on, I'm giving you a do-over."

Derek actually cracks a smile this time, then, fingers tightening on the back of Stiles' neck, he pulls him close.


	24. 24

Though he's been asking for it, the kiss is a surprise. The tight grip on the back of his neck, the warm press of dry lips, there one moment, and then gone.

"That doesn't count," Stiles whines, twisting, gripping Derek's shoulders and straddling his lap.

Derek doesn't push him away. He loops his arm tight around Stiles' waist, pulling him even closer. "I should go," he says, but his fingers press into Stiles' neck, baring it, and he lowers his head and inhales. 

"You're sniffing me," Stiles moans.

"You smell good." Then he kisses Stiles, hot, wet, stealing his breath.


	25. 25

"Do-over," Stiles breathes as Derek sucks a fresh bruise into his neck. "Do _me_. Do me all over again. Please." He rolls his hips, pushing his cock against Derek's through thin pyjama pants and the rough denim of Derek's jeans.

"Fuck, Stiles," Derek gasps, jerking his head back, his hips up. "There's no way... You should be—" 

"All fucked out? Dude, I'm seventeen."

Derek kisses him hard. "Sore. I didn't take enough time—"

Stiles rises on his knees, cock still pressed hard against Derek's crotch. He shudders, moans—his dick feels like it's been rubbed raw. "We've got time now."


	26. 26

The next thing Stiles knows, he's on his belly, staring at the foot of the bed. "I wanna bite you, right here," Derek says, breathing on the back of Stiles' neck. "Hold you still while I fuck you."

Stiles stiffens. "Wouldn't that turn—"

"I won't. I can fight my instincts." Derek moves down the bed, hooking his fingers into the elastic waist of Stiles' pants, dragging them down. Warm breath washes over his ass.

"Holy shit," Stiles breathes. "What are you doing?"

Derek spreads Stiles' ass with his thumbs and drags the flat of his tongue over the sensitive hole.


	27. 27

Derek's right, Stiles is sore. Not surprising, he went from a virgin who'd never had more than his own finger inside himself to being stretched open on Derek's cock and fucked in the space of five minutes last night.

The slow drag and press of Derek's tongue soothes that lingering ache and drains away tension Stiles wasn't aware he was holding on to. His legs are spread, the waist of his pyjama pants an uncomfortable tight band around his thighs.

Derek drags them down, but the loss of Derek's tongue makes Stiles whimper and wriggle back, seeking that contact again.


	28. 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the neverending rimjob...

"You like that?" Derek whispers as he settles back between Stiles' thighs. "It feels good?"

Stiles moans and pushes back as Derek's tongue circles his hole again. "Holy crap, yes," he says. He should be embarrassed at how wide his legs are spread, how his hips rock back into Derek's face, forward against the bed, but he doesn't care. There's more sensation than he's felt before in his whole body. The rasp of stubble on his ass cheeks, the thumbs holding him open, the rough blankets on his cock and the hot wet pressure on his hole drive him crazy.


	29. 29

When Derek points his tongue, wriggles it slowly inside, Stiles lets out a broken sob and tries to get a hand under him. It's a different kind of desperation from last night, but no less urgent and he whimpers when Derek stops him, takes his hand and links their fingers.

"Not fair," Stiles whimpers, thrusting against the blanket. "I need to come."

Derek fucks his tongue into Stiles, a slow, slippery slide in, out, then a finger pushes into Stiles as Derek lifts his head. "No you don't. Not this time." He spits on his finger, pushes it in deeper.


	30. 30

"You've got lube, right?" Derek whispers against the cheek of Stiles' ass.

Stiles whimpers an affirmative, nodding into the blankets. His fingers twist into the covers, hands clenching with each maddening shift of Derek's finger inside him. "Shelf," he says. "Behind the tissues." 

Derek chuckles, then he's gone, but he's back moments later, thumbs again spreading Stiles' ass open, tongue sliding over the sensitive flesh in the center. He pulls back, the sharp crack of a plastic cap rings out, and slick fingers press against Stiles.

The first slides in easy and deep, then Derek eases two in at once.


	31. 31

Stiles moans as Derek's fingers twist inside him. They're slick, really slick, and Derek's been doing this for so long that Stiles gave up trying to hold onto his sanity long ago.

Derek touches a place inside and Stiles loses what fragile control he still had as he shudders, cries out wordlessly, and hopes to either come or die because he can't, not again, he's lost count of how many times Derek's brought him to the brink and taken it away.

And all the time Derek's lips move over the small of his back, whispering soothing words Stiles can't understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's officially one month today. My commitment astounds me, really. You all are awesome. Thank you!


	32. 32

Before Stiles can come, Derek's fingers slip out and Stiles is left with a deep, empty ache inside him. "No," he whimpers, when Derek gets off the bed.

"Getting my jeans off," Derek says. His voice is deep and hoarse, like he's the one who's been brought to the brink over and over again.

Fabric hits the floor, then Derek surrounds Stiles, his breath at Stiles' ear, his hands on Stiles' waist, his cock pressed against Stiles' ass. "Can I fuck you?" he asks.

Stiles blinks.

"Please, Stiles," Derek says, sounding desperate.

"Uh. Yes. Please just get in me already."


	33. 33

Derek's cock goes in easy, no pain, just a pleasurable ache deep inside. "Stiles," Derek moans, fingertips pressing fresh bruises into Stiles' hips. "Fuck, Stiles."

Stiles twists his hips as much as he can, urging Derek to move, to fuck him instead of just this heavy weight pressing him into the bed. The blankets rub against his dick and it's delicious, maddening, too much and not enough and he jerks and clenches up, squeezing the cock inside him. 

Derek lets out a deep groan that vibrates into Stiles. "Up," he says, pulling Stiles back so he's on hands and knees.


	34. 34

Derek barely moves. His chest is plastered to Stiles' back, his arms wrapped around Stiles' body, hands splayed wide, like he can't bear to leave.

Stiles whines and rocks on his knees as he tries to force Derek into some kind of rhythm. "Please, just... Fuck, Derek. Move. You gotta move."

Forehead pressed to the back of Stiles' neck, Derek groans. "I don't want it to be over."

"You're crazy." Stiles rocks forward, pushes back. "It won't be over. We're totally doing this again. A lot."

Derek sucks in a harsh breath and pushes back. "Fuck, Stiles. I want it."


	35. 35

"You've got it," Stiles says.

Derek pulls back with a groan, slow and steady, hands sliding down to grip Stiles by the waist. He slides back in, just as carefully. "You feel fucking good, Stiles. Too fucking good." A few quick, shallow thrusts, then Derek pulls out all the way, flips Stiles onto his back, pushes back inside before he can complain.

Stiles wraps his legs around Derek's hips, pulls him down into a clumsy kiss. "That monster deserves a medal," he gasps against Derek's lips.

Derek drops his head onto Stiles' shoulder, rocks into him with slow, rolling thrusts.


	36. 36

Stiles gets a hand between them, Derek doesn't stop him, and he's on the edge of orgasm when Derek lifts them both, rocking back onto his knees.

Derek's cock goes deeper, grazing Stiles' prostate at the same moment as Stiles drags his finger across the underside of his head. His orgasm hits hard, exploding in the base of his spine.

Stiles hears Derek's sharp intake of breath, feels him stiffen and swell before he goes still, claws in the back of Stiles' neck.

Then there's quiet, broken only by their breathing and the creak of the mattress beneath Derek's knees.


	37. 37

Stiles is warm and sleepy, wrapped around Derek, wrapped in him.

"I should go," Derek says. 

Stiles makes a noise of complaint and holds on tighter. 

Derek sighs. "Go to sleep, Stiles."

"When I wake up you'll be gone."

"You want your father to find me here?"

"Minus the inevitable shooting, yes." Stiles pulls himself up on one elbow. "This is a thing, right? You and me? You said you wanted it." 

"I do." Derek closes his eyes. "I just don't know if it's real yet."

Stiles groans and sinks back into the pillow.

"Go to sleep, Stiles," Derek says.


	38. 38

When Stiles wakes, he's alone and there are aches in muscles he didn't know he had. It's almost dark outside his window, and Stiles remembers he hasn't eaten since yesterday.

His father is in the kitchen when he goes down, wearing worried eyes and the faint scent of whiskey. "Derek was here when I got in," he says. "He told me what happened." 

Stiles chokes on the sandwich his father put in front of him. "He what?" 

"How you both got hit with some kind of monster whammy and went a little crazy. Said you got banged up pretty good."


	39. 39

Stiles blinks. "Crazy. Yes. That's what happened." He twirls his finger in the air beside his ear. "Looney tunes. Naked and drooling like a couple of feral wolf children. Uh huh."

The Sheriff looks alarmed. "You got naked with Derek Hale?"

"No! More like half naked. Yeah. I'm gonna stop talking now."

Stiles' dad relaxes, still looking at him with narrowed eyes. "Was it him that roughed you up?"

Stiles shakes his head. "It's just a few scratches and bruises. He didn't try to eat me."

John sighs, scrubbing his hand over his face. "You're probably lucky he likes you."


	40. 40

Three days later, Derek answers his phone. 

"You dick," Stiles says. 

"What's that for?"

Stiles considers bashing the phone against the dashboard of the Jeep, but it's not the phone's fault Derek is an asshole. "Take your pick, asshole." 

"Come on, Stiles. Is it about before?"

"No." Stiles rolls his eyes. "It's about not answering your phone. Dick move, dude. When you say you're gonna call, call." 

"I didn't say I'd call."

"It was assumed. We had sex. You're supposed to call. Failing that, answer your phone." Stiles starts the Jeep. "I'm coming to your place. You'd better be there."


	41. 41

Derek's standing on the porch looking worried when Stiles arrives.

Stiles leans against the Jeep, arms crossed over his chest.

"I had to make sure it was real," Derek says as he walks down the steps. "That it didn't have lingering effects, that it wasn't making me think I wanted something that didn't exist."

Stiles pulls his arms tighter around himself and refuses to meet Derek's eyes.

"I knew if I talked to you I'd give in. You can be very convincing."

"It was always real for me," Stiles whispers, blinking rapidly. He's not going to get emotional. He's not.


	42. 42

Derek comes close enough that Stiles can feel the heat of his body. "Look at me," he says, fingers on the back of Stiles' neck, making the healing scratches there itch.

Stiles lets Derek turn his head, but he keeps his eyes turned away.

Derek sighs. "There was so much sex," he says. "I couldn't be sure there was anything else there." 

Stiles looks, then. "You looked after me. I knew. You're an idiot if you can't see it." 

"I can now." Derek cradles the back of Stiles' head as he kisses him, warm lips moving softly over Stiles' mouth.


	43. 43

Stiles trips up the steps behind Derek, fingers reaching out for the back of Derek's jeans, falling short because Derek is ever out of reach. "This is awesome," he says, words spilling out fast in his haste. "I spent three days sure that was it, all depressed over the things I never got to do to you."

Derek stops inside the doorway, Stiles crashing into the back of him. "What things?" Derek says as he turns, pulling Stiles into the house and kicking the door shut.

"Um," Stiles says, then he slides down to his knees.

"Stiles, fuck," Derek says.


	44. 44

Stiles' hands shake as he drags down the zipper of Derek's jeans. He's waiting for Derek to stop him, but it doesn't happen. "What, no 'too much sex, lets share our feelings'?" Stiles asks. 

Derek looks at him as if he's lost his mind. "Stiles, I swear if you don't get on with it I'll—"

"Rip off my head with your teeth?" Stiles hooks his fingers into the elastic waist of Derek's underwear, tugs them down just far enough to expose the tip of his cock and a bead of precome. "Whoa," he whispers, and then he licks it away.


	45. 45

"You taste—"

"I swear, Stiles—"

"Rip off my head, right." Stiles shoves Derek's jeans and underwear down, wraps his lips around the head of Derek's cock, swirls his tongue. He's never done this before, but he's watched lots of porn and figures that counts for something.

Derek puts his hand on the back of Stiles' head, pulling Stiles' mouth onto his cock with gentle pressure. "No," he groans, "I'll throw you down and fuck you."

Stiles pulls off and grins. "I brought lube."

"Oh my god, Stiles," Derek growls, pulling Stiles' mouth back onto his dick. Claws prick Stiles' scalp.


	46. 46

Derek thrusts into Stiles' mouth, slow, gentle even, but with a firm grip on the back of Stiles' head that he knows he couldn't break if he tried. Derek's other hand cups Stiles' cheek, the thumb tracing the corner of his mouth where it's stretched around Derek's cock. 

"If I'd known it would be this easy to shut you up," Derek says, his eyes dark and intense, "I would've done it a long time ago." His lips curl into a soft smile. "We really should've done this a long time ago."

Stiles moans, pulling at the button of his jeans.


	47. 47

Stiles whimpers when he finally gets a hand around his dick. His eyelids close as he drags his palm over the head and down the shaft. 

"Open them," Derek says, his voice rough. "Wanna see you come. Look at me." His thrusts into Stiles' mouth get jerky and fast, fingers clenching at the base of Stiles' skull. "You're already close, I can fucking smell it."

Stiles opens his eyes and whines, tries to nod because he's so fucking close it's ridiculous and the look on Derek's face, eyes almost black, mouth hanging open as he gasps for air, isn't helping.


	48. 48

In the end, Derek comes first, with a look on his face that is like pain, and a whimpered, "Stiles, fuck." 

Bitterness and salt fills Stiles' mouth, spreads over his tongue before he swallows. 

"Fucking beautiful," Derek says, wiping come from the corner of Stiles' lips with his thumb as he pulls back. "So good." 

Stiles leans his cheek against Derek's hip, closes his eyes, focuses on the warmth of Derek's fingers holding his head and the taste thick in his mouth as he starts to come. He's more lost now than he ever was that night in the woods.


	49. 49

Derek kisses him afterward, kneeling on the floor with him, dipping his tongue into Stiles' mouth like he's _trying_ to taste his own come. "So good," he says between kisses, or, "oh, my god," or he moans Stiles' name before licking into his mouth again.

Stiles feels dopey and tired. "We're totally a thing," he grins into Derek's shoulder when Derek finally stops kissing him, and, "do you realise you're kneeling in my come?"

Derek stands up, drops his jeans to the floor, steps out of them. "Come on," he says, grabbing Stiles' hand and pulling him to his feet.


	50. 50

Stiles follows Derek up the stairs. 

Derek's fixing the house, bits at a time, when things aren't too monstery. He has a bedroom now, it needs some paint and paper, but it has four walls, a floor, a ceiling. There's even a bed, big enough for two, and Derek drags Stiles toward it, starts peeling off Stiles' clothing, slow and methodical. 

"Lube's in my jeans pocket," Stiles says as Derek tosses them across the room. 

"We're sleeping," Derek replies, pulling back the covers, pushing Stiles over to the other side. 

"Will you be here when I wake up?"

"I promise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stick a fork in me, I'm done! 
> 
> This has been the EPIC drabble project. It started as 100 words, became 1400, then kept growing, finally becoming a complete 5k Porn-Without-Much-Plot spanning 50 days. I've written drabble series' before, but nothing like this. 
> 
> I promised another daily post project, but the one I had planned sucked, so I shelved that idea and I'm very sorry! I do like the regular posting and the way it makes me write every day, but my other projects are suffering. I've got something indulgent I really want to write, so the daily thing is going on the backburner for now. I am thinking about a weekly ficlet project, and I have the first one waiting to be edited now. It should post in the next week or so. 
> 
> Do the author subscribe thing if you want a notification, it's the quickest way to hear when I post, cos I tend to forget about tweeting or tumblring till after the fact. 
> 
> Finally, thank you so much for all your kudos and comments and for reading along. It's been awesome :D

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed reading, please hit the [Kudos ♥] button.
> 
> [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/vampthenewblack/) | [dreamwidth](http://vampthenewblack.dreamwidth.org)  
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